


Amongst the Wildflowers

by chajatta



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairies, Flowers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4772552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chajatta/pseuds/chajatta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worlds and lives of fairies might be tiny and hidden from sight, but that doesn"t mean they aren"t fraught with heartbreak, lies and betrayal. For even the fairest can be touched by evil and even the greatest relationships can be destroyed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amongst the Wildflowers

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the 2015 round of the BaektoBaek exchange on Livejournal.

The living world is fit almost to bursting with fairy stories, great tales of magic and bloodshed, monarchs and their enemies and the various deeds that lend them infamy. Some pass into legend, embellished and sung over many years, long after their characters pass from the world. 

Rarely do such tales of majesty behold full truths, hardly do the people sing of faded kings, jaded beyond repair in victory. 

Ours is one such story, where happy endings do not await even the mightiest of kings. 

But even the saddest of tales must have their beginnings. 

 

Prince Minseok, Crown Prince of the Wildflower Realm, had the start to life most children could only dream of. The only child to the king and queen of the most powerful kingdom in the fairy world, the prince grew up safe within the walls of the palace, an ancient, circular tower of pebbles held strong upon its foundations by towering Snapdragons, pink and red and older than the royal family themselves. 

Safe his childhood had been, certainly, and privileged. The prince was tutored in the languages of faraway lands, taught to ride almost as soon as he could walk; there was little the young royal wanted for that his parents could not provide. 

Yet, as with all children, he longed for more. He would peer between the petals surrounding the palace, out into the kingdom that would one day be his, and longed for freedom. The crown prince longed for a friend. 

The king was not a cruel fairy. He was as uncommonly kind as he was frightfully strong, and thus he sought to find his son a playmate, someone with whom he could share his life inside the palace. 

He found Baekhyun. 

The youngest son of the captain of the King’s Guard, Baekhyun slotted into the prince’s life with ease. Chatty and friendly, Baekhyun and Minseok had become famous friends almost immediately. The prince and his first (and only, some would argue later in hushed voices) friend would do everything together. Not a lesson could be taught nor a sparring session undertook without each half of the pair. Baekhyun had a talent for magic where the prince was trained in swordplay, and often they could be seen sparring in the courtyard, sharing secrets of their respective talents and sweating under the heat of the summer sun. 

But always the palace was alive with the sound of laughter. 

 

 

As they had grown older, the king had granted Minseok greater freedom to leave the palace, and the pair would frequently ride together. Their grasshopper mounts both bedecked in the rich blues of Minseok’s family, the prince and his confidant would quickly pass through the village and disappear into the flower meadows. They would dart through fields of Bluebells and glades scattered with Sheep’s Bit, before eventually guiding their grasshoppers into a slow lope along the sides of the riverbank at the edge of the king’s realm. 

Baekhyun had gone through a growth spurt, shooting up an inch taller than his prince, and with his extra height had come a pair of wings. Tiny things they had been at first, little more than budding flower blossoms sprouting from his shoulder blades, but they had grown in size with their owner and Minseok would always remember how jealous he had been. Baekhyun would stretch them out behind him as they rode, huge and leathery like bat’s wings, and Minseok would watch with delight as the sun streamed through the thin black membrane and dappled the floor with shadow. 

The wings had been the first sign of the changes within Baekhyun’s heart, but the prince had been too enamoured with his friend to see it.

On some such walks, away from the palace and the pressures of being a royal, Minseok would talk to his friend, confide in him his worries and seek advice. Childish things they had been, at first, like a sword drill he couldn’t master or yet another impossible language his mother insisted he learn. But as they’d grown, so had the prince’s pressures, and often he would confess to Baekhyun the fears he felt no prince should have. When his mother had died and his father, old himself and struck with grief, had looked alike to follow her, Minseok had done the only thing he could think to do. He had taken his friend riding. 

“I am not ready to be king,” Minseok whispered. Baekhyun had stayed silent and the sound of their grasshoppers’ feet rustling through the grass echoed loud in Minseok’s ears. Eventually Baekhyun snapped out of his reverie with a good-natured laugh. 

“You have always worried too much, my prince. The sole holder of all power in the Wildflower Realm, you will answer to _nobody_. How could you not want that?”

“Power, yes, and responsibility, besides. I will be responsible for so many lives, Baekhyun, and I do not know if-“ 

Baekhyun rolled his eyes and wheeled his mount to face away from Minseok. The sun now shone directly onto his face, lighting his brown hair with flecks of gold, and he lifted a hand up to cover his eyes. “You become old before your time, with thoughts like that rattling around in your head. That is what your advisors are for, is it not? Come, race you back to the palace.”

Baekhyun kneed his grasshopper and it leapt forward, leaving Minseok behind to scramble for his reins and give chase. 

 

 

The king’s failing health had been one of the worst kept secrets in the entire kingdom. Once he had become unable to appear in public any longer, Minseok had been forced to take on many of his father’s duties. He had been forced to keep up the appearance of a strong and reliable monarchy, to present a brave face to his people, when he felt like his entire world was crumbling with grief. 

He visited his father frequently, held his frail hand between his palms and marvelled how this proud man, the one who had taught Minseok so much, had caught him each time he’d fallen as a child, had been reduced to such frailty. 

Regularly Minseok would bring Baekhyun with him, reliant on the silent strength of his friend by his side to get through such visits. Perhaps the prince should have seen it then, should have taken more note of the darkness that would glaze Baekhyun’s eyes as he gazed upon the king. Perhaps he should have seen the signs when his father had forgotten Minseok’s name, when he would instead reach those bony hands out to clasp at Baekhyun, would fix the prince’s closest advisor with his milky gaze and whisper nonsense too faint for Minseok to hear. 

But he hadn’t. Instead he had retired to his private quarters with Baekhyun in tow and cried upon his shoulder. Instead the prince had allowed Baekhyun to pull him in close, to bury his nose in his hair and murmur reassurances against his skin. 

How was the prince to know that the only remaining source of support he had left was laying the foundations of his greatest betrayal?

For Baekhyun had been clever. He had been able to conceal the darkness and the greed growing in his heart. But the truth has ways of coming to light, ways which those to whom the shadow fully ensconces often do not expect. Eventually Baekhyun, as sly and careful as he had been, had made a mistake.

Minseok may not have been as versed in magic as his friend, might not have been able to call up the power of spell, bright white light brimming over his fingertips, like Baekhyun, but even he knew the gleam of dark magic when he saw it before his own eyes. 

Unable to find Baekhyun in his rooms, Minseok had decided to call unexpectedly on his father when he had found there the one he had been looking for. 

Baekhyun had been crouched before the king, hands splayed like white spiders across his knees. The king’s head was bowed, submissive almost, and even Minseok could not, in all his loyalty and love for his friend, mistake the curses oozing like tar from Baekhyun’s mouth, nor the way his whole body seemed to glow with the strength of his magic, for anything but what it was. 

“Baekhyun,” he had whispered, broken and betrayed, and Minseok remembers reaching for the sword strapped at his hip before Baekhyun had even had a chance to get to his feet. 

He had not even tried to deny it. 

Baekhyun had turned slowly, the king slumping in his chair as the power of Baekhyun’s spell snapped away from his weak body, and Minseok would never be able to forget the fell look written across his friend’s face as they gazed upon each other. 

“How could you-?” Minseok had demanded, hand trembling as he pulled his sword from its scabbard. 

“A prince who does not wish to be king,” Baekhyun had snarled, and light had danced between his palms, hanging loose as they were by his sides. “How could I stand by and watch as a coward who eschews his responsibility took his seat upon the throne? You, my prince, whom is most undeserving of the crown upon your father’s head.”

“It is not your choice!” Minseok had shouted back at him, fear and horror and betrayal settling heavy in his gut. “I would do my duty by my people, I would protect them with all my heart, I would-“

Baekhyun had laughed, high and cold and so unlike the sound Minseok remembers from his childhood. “I know your heart, Minseok. I know it to be too weak for the privilege of such power, just as your father has proven himself to be. Both of you have proven unable to resist me, in your own ways.”

Minseok had swung for him. Wild and pained, the strike had taken Baekhyun by surprise and he had been unable to summon enough magic to do anything but block the blow away from his face before Minseok was advancing upon him again. 

“You are a loathsome creature, you whom I trusted most in this world!” Minseok had screamed at him, darting to one side as magic crackled past his face, lighting his eyes in wild fury. “You are banished, from my kingdom and my heart. Go to the darkness you have succumbed to.” 

Baekhyun blocked another blow and the last Minseok saw, through the hateful heat of tears, was the cruel smile on Baekhyun’s mouth before he was gone, disappeared in a blinding flash of white. 

His sword clattered to the ground first, and Minseok’s body had followed quickly as he fell to his knees with a sob. 

 

 

Everything had fallen into chaos after that. 

Rumours had spread rapidly around the kingdom, hushed whispers falling from the lips of commoners and palace staff alike, snatches of _the prince’s advisor, would you believe it_ and _heard he cursed the king_ and _the prince never even noticed, the poor thing._

Minseok, too ashamed and heartbroken to rebuff them, had held his silence. 

Even as the true effects of Baekhyun’s magic had finally taken their toll on the weakened king and Minseok had been left alone in the world, head of a kingdom with nobody to turn to for help, the prince had remained stoic and silent. 

They had thrown him a grand coronation. The streets of the kingdom had been lined with Gladiolus in every colour imaginable, the woven twig crown had been placed upon his head and his people, somehow jubilant after everything, had erupted with cheers for their new king. Yet for Minseok, the crown upon his brow had felt more like a noose around his neck. 

 

 

With the passing of years Minseok had settled into his kingship. Slowly the loss of his father and the pain of Baekhyun’s betrayal had simmered down to a dull ache in his heart, always there but never spoken of as Minseok devoted himself fully to the tending of his kingdom. 

Peace, eventually, settled like a blanket under Minseok’s watchful eye. Harvests were bountiful, spring seemed to last eternal and fruitful and his people flourished. The whispers that had once plagued the king through the start of his reign, _he looks so lost_ and _can we really trust such a young king to rule us,_ rose into songs of great praise for a kind and steady rule. 

But somehow the happy countenance Minseok had been famous for as a child never really seemed to return. The palace, once filled with the bright sound of his laughter, became a much more subdued place and Minseok, secure though his crown was, never felt able to rest and enjoy the peace he had worked so hard to bring. 

And it is soon, far sooner than any could have hoped, that whispers of tidings that give cause for the king’s heavy and sorrowful heart begin.

 

 

It’s the captain of the guard that first comes to him with news. 

Minseok isn’t blind, of course. He’s seen the way the sky has started to bleed purple, the thick clouds obscuring all but the most brilliant rays of the sun. The harvests have started to fail, berries meant to be stored for the winter shrivelling up and dying. Yes, Minseok has seen the signs, but it isn’t until Jongdae begins to speak, wringing his hands in front of him, that Minseok is forced to step out from behind his veil of forced ignorance and accept that that which he has dreaded most has come to light. 

“The rumours are true, Your Highness. Baekhyun has indeed returned,” Jongdae shudders and the only sound in the sudden silence is the gentle clatter of Minseok laying down his knife and fork. “He sends word with my men that he wishes to speak with you.”

Minseok lifts the napkin from his lap, wipes strawberry juice from his mouth, and fixes Jongdae with a suddenly weary look.

“I feared this day would come,” Minseok sighs, standing carefully from his seat. “I suppose I must make haste. Captain, please ready my mount.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Jongdae says and Minseok can hear the reluctance in his voice. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but I must ask. Do you plan to meet with him alone? My company brought word that Baekhyun is more fell now than he ever was and I fear that-“

Minseok raises a hand, not unkindly, and cuts Jongdae off. “Your concern is appreciated, Captain, but unnecessary. I am well equipped to deal with Baekhyun. If he wishes to parlay with me alone, I can grant him that.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Jongdae lowers his head respectfully, “I shall prepare your steed immediately.” He waits for Minseok to officially dismiss him and then Jongdae turns, boots twisting with perfect military precision against the floor, and marches from the room. 

 

 

Jongdae’s company had given him thorough directions, though they need not have bothered. After he had insisted he did not need an accompaniment, Minseok had led his grasshopper out of the palace grounds. He had chosen to take a route out away from the prying eyes of his people, eager to avoid rumours or further worry. Though by the time Minseok pulls towards the outskirts of his kingdom, the touch of Baekhyun’s magic becomes plain to see.

Paths once lined with grasses and flowers now lie charred and dead before Minseok’s eyes and he has to steel himself against the shudder that races down his spine at the obvious reminders of his old friend. 

Eventually he comes to a clearing where the grass is shorn short and Minseok dismounts his grasshopper. He refrains from tethering the creature, choosing instead to err on the side of caution and leave her loose. He hopes sincerely that he has no need of a quick escape, but Minseok cannot help the way his hand drifts to tighten his sword where it hangs at his hip. 

A tent has been erected in the corner of the little glade, green fabric stretched taut between wooden poles dug deep into the ground, and the sound of Minseok’s boots in the dirt must travel, because the moment he takes a step towards the tent the front flap flies open.

Minseok almost stumbles backwards when his eyes catch a glimpse of the face that looks up to meet him. Baekhyun looks so much like he had all those years ago. His cheeks haven’t lost their childish roundness, nor has that charming square smile been tainted by all his years in the wild. Yet for all his familiarity, Baekhyun’s countenance makes Minseok feel distinctly uncomfortable and he feels, for a moment, as though he might throw up. 

“Minseok,” Baekhyun starts. His voice still rings soft and rich like music to Minseok’s ears. “Long the years have been, yet I see they have treated you well.” Baekhyun takes a slow step towards him and he must see the way Minseok’s entire body tenses because he stops, dips his head down into a polite bow. 

“What are you doing here?” Minseok’s voice leaves him in a whisper and he stares down at Baekhyun’s bared neck. It would be easy, so easy, to attack Baekhyun now, low and vulnerable as he is, and yet Minseok finds himself unable to move, unable even to draw his gaze from Baekhyun’s face as he straightens himself up again.

“I heard about your coronation.” Baekhyun must see the way his eyes narrow because he smiles, “Oh yes, the news reached even me, all alone in the wild. I bet you looked resplendent, dressed up in your fineries. I wish I could have seen it.”

“You could have, Baekhyun, but you made your choice.” Minseok seriously considers reconsidering his earlier reluctance to draw a weapon. 

“Aye, I did,” Baekhyun says, stepping towards Minseok. His boots crunch in the dirt as he continues past him and Minseok can’t help the shiver that dances up his spine. “It is one that I still regret, Minseok. I was young and foolish, arrogant, with delusions of grandeur and power that were not mine to take. I see that now. Years of banishment have opened my eyes to my misdeeds.”

“If you seek to make me feel guilty, Baekhyun-“ Baekhyun reappears suddenly, wings folded against his back, his form taking up Minseok’s whole eye line. He’s always been surprisingly broad and Minseok sees that the years have taken nothing way from the confident set of his shoulders, the sure way that he stands before royalty.

“Of course not,” Baekhyun folds his arms across his chest, “I know now that you did what had to be done, no matter how hard it was. It is a quality I am sure is making you a fine king.”

“Such flattery might have worked when we were children, Baekhyun, but I do not-“ Minseok is cut off again and Baekhyun is the only one that has ever, is still ever, despite all of Minseok’s better judgement, been allowed to interrupt him.

“Flattery is not my intention,” Baekhyun says quietly and Minseok watches, eyes wide with astonishment, as Baekhyun sinks to his knees before him. “I am here to seek forgiveness, should you find yourself able to offer it to those unworthy. I know you to be merciful, Minseok, and I would ask that you would take me as your servant once more. I would ask for the privilege to call you my king.”

Minseok stays silent, staring down at where Baekhyun kneels before him. His voice feels caught in his throat and he is incredibly glad that he doesn’t have to see Baekhyun’s face as he says, “your king? How can I be king to the one who sought to take my crown from me? After everything, you would come back here, with your sweet apologies, thinking they are enough to erase what you did.”

Baekhyun lifts his head and those piercing black eyes have always had a way of searing right through to Minseok’s heart. “I do not seek to erase,” Baekhyun says, voice pitched low and gentle, “only to make amends. I see that my actions still weigh heavily on your heart, Minseok. All I desire is to ease your suffering. You have worried over me long enough.”

Minseok, despite everything, despite the years that have stretched between them, can still feel the pull and sway that Baekhyun has always had over him. The pain of betrayal twinges in his chest and Minseok flinches away when he feels Baekhyun’s fingers brush over his palm. 

“I could not take you back into my kingdom, Baekhyun,” he says, more sharply than he intends. Baekhyun’s hand still hovers but he no longer touches Minseok, simply stares up at him. “You who called me a coward, who spread his evil into my father’s mind and twisted it against me,” Minseok fists his own hands tightly to stop them shaking, “there are things even I cannot forgive.”

Baekhyun’s gaze still rests upon his face and Minseok hates the words he feels bubbling up from his throat, though they spill out all the same. “Though I would not scorn your repentance, if it were genuine, I would not-“

The press of lips to his knuckles startles Minseok into a gasp but he doesn’t pull his hand away this time. “Fair in more ways than one, as I have always known you to be, Your Highness.” 

If Minseok hated his words, it is nothing to how he loathes the effect that title upon Baekhyun’s lips has on him. He pulls his hand from Baekhyun’s grasp and urges him to his feet. 

“I still cannot allow you leave into the kingdom,” Minseok says, as firmly as he feels able. “You know as well as I where my lands begin and end, you know I have no power to banish anyone from where our feet lie presently, but I would not allow you within my own lands.”

“Your forgiveness is more than I could have hoped for,” Baekhyun says. His wings flutter against his back and the effort Minseok must exert not to be distracted by them, as he had been so frequently when they were children, is considerable. “The years have been long and painful between us, I was under no illusion that would be remedied with one meeting.”

“Indeed,” Minseok offers. He hesitates before he takes a step away. “I must take my leave, I-“

“Of course,” Baekhyun interrupts him again. “Return to your palace, my King. I am sure they worry greatly about your safety, alone with me as you are.” He sweeps his body down into another low bow, but there is still the lingering shadow of a grin about his face as he rights himself. “Go,” he says before Minseok can speak again, “before the light fails and leaves you adrift here amongst such desolation. Ride safely and know I shall have your mercy in my thoughts this night.”

 

 

Minseok attempts to put Baekhyun to the back of his mind. It is a skill he has never possessed and one that does not seem to be forthcoming now. 

He has a kingdom to run, jobs enough to keep him occupied at almost every waking moment; the crops must be given special attention to revive them before the end of autumn, a new lot of housing is being built by the bee hives that requires his supervision. Yet Minseok is unable to get Baekhyun out of his thoughts, is unable to clear his mind’s eye of the sight of Baekhyun knelt before his feet, the sensation of that soft, treacherous mouth against his skin. 

No, Minseok thinks, pulling his robe tighter around his body; winter is closing in early around the kingdom, and even ensconced in the palace as he is, Minseok can feel its icy fingers tightening their grip around him. Apology or no, Minseok cannot, _will not_ , allow himself to be drawn in by that silver tongue. 

When the first snows begin to fall, coating the kingdom in a thick blanket of white, Minseok does _not_ fall asleep with lingering thoughts of Baekhyun in his mind, cold and alone in the wild.

 

 

They do not meet again. 

Minseok sends scouts to Baekhyun’s camp once a week and they return to him, bundled up in mouse pelts and shivering with cold, reporting that all seems as normal as can be. Minseok tries to ignore the pang of worry that still squirms in his chest even as he bids his scouts leave. 

Perhaps Baekhyun had been right, all those years ago. Perhaps he _did_ worry too much, perhaps he _was_ becoming old before his time, plaguing himself with unnecessary worries over a friend who had returned seeking forgiveness and nothing more. 

Weeks bleed into months, the winter continues to rage on, and Minseok is just starting to believe that maybe Baekhyun really did seek nothing other than to rekindle their friendship, when Jongdae requests an audience with him. 

 

 

“A young girl has gone missing,” Jongdae tells him. He stands ramrod straight as always, two steps down from the dais upon which Minseok’s throne rests. “Her parents report sending her to collect their daily share of winter rations, but she failed to return. Your Highness,” Jongdae starts, clasping his hands before him, “perhaps the uncharacteristically harsh winter has led her astray. I have sent the best of my troops to look for the girl, but I cannot help thinking that darker powers may be at force.”

Minseok smoothes his hands along the carved wooden arms of his throne before he speaks. “You mean to suggest Baekhyun?”

Jongdae inclines his head in deference, “I feel it would be foolish not to consider him, Your Highness.”

“I feel that you are probably correct, Captain.” Minseok stands and Jongdae takes a further step down off the dais as his king paces by him. “Continue your search for the girl and let us pray that she is found safely. In the mean time,” Minseok turns his back to Jongdae and gazes out over his kingdom. The snow that covers everything makes it hard for him to see much beyond the palace grounds, let alone towards the outer boundaries of his land, “I will go and seek with Baekhyun for more information.”

 

 

The path that leads to Baekhyun’s encampment is much more difficult to follow in the snow. Several times Minseok’s grasshopper is almost blown off the road and it takes Minseok’s whispered reassurances to keep the creature moving forwards. 

Eventually they reach the clearing and, battered and frozen, Minseok slides out of the saddle. He flings a warm coat over the back of his grasshopper and pats her on the flank before leaving her to hunker down in the snow out of the worst of the cold. 

“Baekhyun?” Minseok calls out, but the howling wind quickly steals his voice from him. Baekhyun, nevertheless, must have heard his shout, for his head appears between the flaps of his tent, quickly followed by the rest of his body. 

“Your Highness?” Baekhyun asks, immediately stepping aside. “Come inside,” he says and Minseok doesn’t have to be asked twice. Once he’s within touching distance one of Baekhyun’s great leathery wings comes up to shield Minseok from the snow and he all but pushes the king into his tent. “I might have tried to clean the place, had I known you were coming. Though I’m sure the warmth will still be welcome, after your journey.”

Minseok says nothing, just allows Baekhyun to push him towards the centre of the tent. There’s a small fire burning and Minseok gratefully sinks down before it. Baekhyun offers to take his cloak and if goosebumps spring up over the back of Minseok’s neck as Baekhyun peels the damp material from his back, they can only be due to the sodden silk that’s been resting over his skin. 

“I must confess,” Baekhyun says as he hangs Minseok’s cloak over the fire to dry. Water drips off into the flames and the steam that hisses up between them obscures Minseok’s view for a moment. “I had not expected to see you again, at least not until the spring at the very earliest.”

“You sound disappointed,” Minseok mumbles. He clenches and unclenches his fingers before the fire, sighing with relief as feeling slowly bleeds back into them. “Should I not have come?”

“I am always pleased to see you, Your Highness.” Baekhyun comes to sit by his side, wings folded against his back. Minseok squirms. 

“Do not call me that,” he says and he doesn’t miss the way Baekhyun’s mouth twitches. “It does not feel right, coming from you. Just- just Minseok, is fine.”

“I am always pleased to see you, Minseok,” Baekhyun repeats, more softly this time. The fire crackles before them and Minseok stares into it, tries to pretend that the heat he can feel rising on his cheeks is from that and not the way his name sounds on Baekhyun’s lips. “Yet I cannot help but think this is not a social visit. You are not here to check on my welfare, are you?” 

Minseok stays silent for a long while. “No,” he says eventually, “I am not. Although I cannot pretend it does not concern me, you living out here like this.” 

Baekhyun smiles and reaches out to pat Minseok gently on the thigh. “Always worrying,” he says. “I am more than capable of looking after myself, Minseok. Now, tell me, why are you here?”

“There is a girl,” Minseok starts, a hesitant lilt to his voice, “she has gone missing from her home, this noon just passed.” 

Baekhyun’s hand withdraws from his thigh and Minseok knows he need say no more. When he looks up though, Baekhyun still has that smile on his face. “And you worry that I might have taken her? Or perhaps it is not you who thinks so, but you have been advised to check up on me either way.” Minseok opens his mouth to interrupt but Baekhyun hushes him gently. “Minseok, I would be rather more concerned about your leadership were you not here. But when, do you propose, might I have been able to access this girl, banished as I am from your kingdom?”

Minseok squirms in place, Baekhyun’s words still holding that power of persuasion over him as they have always done. He says nothing and Baekhyun continues. “Where, do you think, might I have hidden this poor young soul? And for what purpose? For unless this child is a keener hunter than I, in which case I would be more than happy to accept her services, I see no reason that I would play any part in taking a young fairy from her parents.”

“I had to come and check for myself, for the protection of my people,” Minseok says, bristling. Baekhyun, even with the awful deeds lurking in his own past, still has an uncanny habit of making Minseok feel guilty. “If there is any threat to my kingdom and it’s people, it is my duty-“

Baekhyun laughs and reaches out to soothe a hand down Minseok’s back, palm gliding over the rich silk of his tunic. “Minseok you need not defend your actions to me, I take no insult. By all means search my tent and the lands surrounding, if you will, but I would rather not see you waste your energy on a pointless task.” 

“In that case I should go, help my men search for the girl. She will not last long in this weather.” Minseok moves to stand and Baekhyun’s hand burns as it skates down his spine before dropping away.

“Nor, for that matter, will you,” he says, moving to stand with Minseok. He has always been slightly taller and Minseok hates the way their eyes don’t quite meet as Baekhyun stands uncomfortably close to him. “Would you not stay until the morning? I cannot promise the comfort to which I am sure a king is accustomed, but I can guarantee warmth and good company.”

“No,” Minseok snaps, much more harshly than he intends if Baekhyun’s raised eyebrows are any guess. But he is not wavering, he is _not_ , not in the slightest, at the suggestion of staying the night here with Baekhyun. “No,” he says again, gently this time, “I could not, not whilst a child is wandering out there alone. Besides which, I fear my grasshopper would freeze to death were she left out there over night. No, I must return.”

“A noble choice.” Baekhyun reaches for Minseok’s cloak and he doesn’t wait for permission before he drapes it around Minseok’s shoulders. It isn’t all the way dry, but the warmth that settles around Minseok’s shoulders is welcome all the same. “And a most noble sight you make, dressed even in travelling gear as you are,” Baekhyun hums as he fastens the cloak tight about Minseok’s neck. 

As soon as Baekhyun’s fingers move away from his neck Minseok goes to push the flap of the tent open, cold wind immediately cutting across his cheeks. He turns to glance back at Baekhyun and the other fairy dips into a bow, wings splayed out behind him. “Be safe, Your Highness.”

Minseok frowns, but he inclines his head politely to Baekhyun as he straightens all the same. “And yourself. Let us hope that the light of spring is not far off.” 

He doesn’t wait for Baekhyun’s response before he departs from the tent. The flurries of snow are coming down harder now and Minseok whistles for his grasshopper, eager to get them both back to the palace. When she appears by his side, antennae drooping and wings held flat to her back, Minseok doesn’t even bother to remove the blanket from the poor insect’s back. He climbs up into the saddle and, without a further glance back at the tent behind him, urges his mount off at a steady hop into the vast expanse of white before them. 

 

 

They don’t find the girl. 

After three days and nights of searching, Jongdae had come to report to the king in his private quarters. _No sign nor trace of her, Your Highness,_ he had said, _her parents are distraught_. The words spin around and around in Minseok’s head as he stares into his fire, the flames scorching the edges of his vision a warm orange. 

_We do not think, at this point, we will find her alive._

Minseok had ordered the search to continue but the tight line of Jongdae’s mouth as he’d bowed low and then turned to leave had not filled Minseok with any great hope. 

Winter has been more punishing than usual this year, Minseok would grant that, and yet he cannot stop his thoughts from wandering, again and again, to Baekhyun. 

To Baekhyun, out in the wilds. To Baekhyun who has not, to the best of his knowledge, stepped a single foot within his kingdom since he cursed Minseok’s father all those years ago. To Baekhyun, who had seemed so willing to allow Minseok to search his lodgings. 

Yet still, doubt and unease continue to tug at Minseok’s stomach. He rises from his seat by the fire and crosses the room in long, anxious strides. The palace is covered in boughs of evergreen during the winter and Minseok pushes a branch of fir aside to peer through the window. 

The snow has stopped falling but Minseok can feel the chill biting at his nose and cheeks. Pale purple clouds cloak the sky above and Minseok sighs, breath ghosting out into the night before him. In the distance, barely visible to his eyes, Minseok sees the curling silver smoke of a fire rising out of the snow and he pushes the fir back across the window with a growl.

Distrust is but one thing and without more solid proof Minseok can do little more than continue to search for the missing child. 

Sleep does not come easily to the king that evening. 

 

 

The next few days bring even darker tidings to the Wildflower Kingdom.

More disappearances, more fairies vanished without a single trace or footstep in the ever-deepening snow. They search and search, the king himself joining his ranks of mounted soldiers to scour every inch of land for any sign of those unfortunate souls. 

They find nothing. 

People begin to grow too afraid to leave their own homes and Minseok feels powerless to assure them of their safety.

Still thoughts of Baekhyun nag in the back of his mind. Still he has no proof that Baekhyun has a single thing to do with it. 

No proof, that is, until weeks later. 

Several more fairies have disappeared and the king is close to his wits end when Jongdae comes to him again. His captain’s hair is in disarray and there are chunks of fabric torn from his uniform, but he seems otherwise unharmed as he strides across the throne room and bows at Minseok’s feet. 

“Someone has been found, Your Highness, one of the farmers who disappeared two nights passed. He was wandering in the snow down by the river when my company found him,” Jongdae says in a rush, patches of colour rising high in his cheeks. 

“Is he well?” Minseok enquires, standing immediately from his throne. 

“Physically there seems to be no sign of any injury, nor even any effects from the cold.” Jongdae hesitates, breaking his resting stance to wring his hands before him. 

“Captain? What is it you are not telling me?” Minseok steps towards the end of the dais, closer to Jongdae. The difference in elevation has him looming over Jongdae and he has to tilt his head back to meet the eyes of his king. 

“He put up a fight when we tried to bring him home,” Jongdae begins eventually, gesturing to his uniform. “He said he was lost, that he didn’t know how to find his way home.” Jongdae hesitates again, pursing his lips before he says, “He didn’t know the way back to his Lord Baekhyun.”

Minseok feels his blood run cold. 

“His Lord Baekhyun,” Minseok repeats slowly and his legs must begin to tremble because suddenly Jongdae is up on the dais, slipping one arm around his back to steady him. 

“Yes, Your Highness,” Jongdae sighs. His breath ruffles Minseok’s hair but he barely feels it, is hardly aware of anything beyond the dread pooling in his stomach. “It seemed, for all intents and purposes, that he had been cursed. We finally managed to get the farmer back to the kingdom and took him immediately to a healer, but beyond that I thought it wiser to seek your counsel, Your Highness. My troops can be readied immediately for whatever action you would have us take.” 

With a long intake of breath, Minseok straightens his back. Jongdae’s hand falls away and he steps away, resuming their respectful distance without a word. 

“Action,” Minseok mumbles, reaching absently for the hilt of the sword he knows is strapped, as always, about his waist. “Yes, I am afraid the time has come again for action. Gather a band of your finest warriors, Captain.”

Jongdae salutes and whirls around on his heel, then he strides across the throne room and disappears beyond a curtain of white Clematis. 

Minseok stands for a moment, fingers still curled around his sword. He draws it half out of the scabbard, closes his eyes as he listens to the familiar sound of scraping metal, and tries to ignore the nervous hammering of his heart. 

 

 

A band of eight mounted troops awaits Minseok as he brings his grasshopper around to the top of the road leading out of the kingdom. Bedecked in royal blue and carrying streaming flags bearing the snowflake emblem of Minseok’s house, they stick behind the king in military formation as they ride out through the snow towards Baekhyun’s camp. 

His tent stands alone in a sea of white and Minseok dismounts immediately, boots sinking as he lands in the thick snow. There’s no sign of Baekhyun anywhere, neither outside nor in his tent, and Minseok is half tempted to just call out for him where he stands. 

He’s saved the trouble of doing so when he hears footsteps crunching into the little glade. 

“Minseok,” Baekhyun’s smooth voice rankles Minseok’s nerves and he spins around, hand flying to his sword. Jongdae wheels his troops to stand between Baekhyun and their king and the sound of Baekhyun’s laughter rings loud through the air. “To what pleasure do I owe such a visit?”

“The time for games has long since passed, Baekhyun,” Minseok snarls, drawing his sword. Baekhyun raises an eyebrow. 

“Games? I play no games with you, my King.” He takes a step closer and Jongdae’s Lieutenant, Song Qian, swings down off her grasshopper to stand between them. 

“Take not a single step closer,” she growls, pulling twin daggers from the holster on her back. 

“Do call off your dogs, Minseok.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, but Minseok sees the way he eyes Song Qian’s daggers warily.

“Where are they?” Minseok demands. “My people, the ones you have cursed for your own nefarious purposes.” Baekhyun opens his mouth but Minseok, for once, is the one quick to interrupt. “I will hear no more of your lies, Baekhyun! Release my people from your hold.”

Baekhyun’s face darkens and the expression is more like the one Minseok remembers from all those years ago, when Baekhyun had been chased from the kingdom. 

“Oh, Minseok, you can rest assured that they are quite safe,” Baekhyun sneers. “Whether they are still your people, on the other hand, remains to be seen. They seemed more than willing to switch to my allegiance.”

“Release them!” Minseok roars, bringing his sword before him in an arc of silver, “Else I should cleave your wretched head from your shoulders.”

Before Minseok can move, before any of his troops can so much as draw another weapon, Baekhyun’s great wings burst from his back. In one sweep they send an explosion of snow up into the air, encasing Minseok’s vision in a sea of stunning white. In the chaos he hears nothing but screaming, the high pitched and terrified kind that would later haunt his dreams. 

When the snow eventually settles, bodies lay strewn across the ground. Jongdae lies not far away, sprawled on his stomach, and Minseok swallows down a cry. He moves towards his fallen captain, to check for a pulse, for _anything_ , when arms come around his waist and yank him back into a death grip. 

“Worry not,” Baekhyun purrs into his ear. Minseok tries to struggle free, tries to swing his sword around, but his entire body feels almost paralysed, through fear or magic he cannot discern. “They live, all of them. I could have killed them, Minseok, but I, too, am capable of showing mercy. Just like my King.”

Minseok howls, that jibe cutting deep, exactly like he is sure Baekhyun meant for it to. 

“Why,” he hisses, still attempting to writhe free of Baekhyun’s grasp, “Why are you doing this? Why have you taken innocent people from their homes? From their families?” Baekhyun holds him firm, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against Minseok’s neck. Minseok feels the weight of a smile there as he begins to speak again.

“All those years ago, Minseok, when we fought, when you banished me,” Baekhyun’s arms tighten, nails digging into Minseok’s stomach through his robes, “did you think I would be content to slink away with my tail between my legs? Did you think I would be happy to leave you on your throne, with a crown upon your head which you are still proving yourself unfit to bear? No. Instead I thought it more prudent to take my time, to harness my power, to become a force impossible to ignore.” He hums softly under his breath. “I must admit, Minseok, for all of their supposed loyalty to you, they were surprisingly easy to manipulate. I barely had to utter a word of black magic before they were begging to join me.”

With a cry of rage and a sudden surge of strength, Minseok throws Baekhyun off his back. Spinning quickly on his heel he swings for Baekhyun, drawing his sword in a short arc, but Baekhyun blocks the blow in a flash of white. Minseok’s sword bounces off the invisible force and the impact jars his arms. “As always you spout nothing but lies!” Minseok shouts as he tries to regain his footing. “You continue to prey on the minds of the innocent and vulnerable, as you have always done.”

Baekhyun laughs and the sound of it, cruel and mocking, echoes around the glade. “Yet you continue to show yourself as weak to me, Minseok,” Baekhyun teases. He cradles a ball of light between the palms of his hands and Minseok just barely manages to fling himself to the side as Baekhyun throws it at him. The light hits the ground, snow melting immediately beneath it to reveal scorched black earth. “What must your subjects think of their King, who is so easily taken under by his traitorous old friend?”

“I have been foolish,” Minseok admits through gritted teeth, “but no more.” He lunges at Baekhyun but again he’s blocked, Baekhyun’s wings coming around his body this time to act as a shield against the blow. Minseok pivots and he manages to swing his sword around to knock the blunt side against Baekhyun’s thigh. 

Baekhyun cries out, the force of the hit sending him stumbling in the snow. Minseok advances once more but Baekhyun is too quick for him this time, unleashing another ball of light that he throws in Minseok’s face. Minseok stumbles in his haste to dodge and he falls forward into the snow, hunkering down on his hands and knees as the ball of light explodes next to him. 

“You are weak, Minseok.” Minseok hears his boots crunching in the snow and he looks up to see Baekhyun looming over him. Silhouetted against the purple sky as he is, Baekhyun appears more terrible and fell than Minseok has ever seen him. “In body and in spirit, as you have always been.” 

Blood streams from his nose, staining the snow red as Minseok struggles upright. Just as he’s getting to his feet, the world spinning, Baekhyun brings his hand back and, with all the power his body can muster, clouts Minseok across the face. The force of the blow has him reeling, sword falling from his fingers as he drops to his knees. 

“Fighting me is futile, but should you surrender to me I might choose to be merciful.” Baekhyun leans down over him, long fingers reaching out to grip Minseok’s jaw and force his face upright. Minseok stares blearily into those dark, fathomless eyes, and in that moment there is not a scrap of the Baekhyun he had known as a child left for Minseok to see. “We do go back such a long way, after all. I am sure you would have your uses.”

With a final cry of rage, Minseok forces his battered body into motion. Baekhyun, unprepared for the sudden surge forward, stumbles backwards, wings flapping desperately behind his back to try and maintain his balance. But the momentum carries Minseok forward, sends his heavier body crashing into Baekhyun’s, and together they fall, Baekhyun’s head smacking hard into the ground as Minseok ends up sprawled on top of him.

For a moment there is nothing but silence. Minseok, breath rattling through his winded lungs, struggles to push himself upright, hands sinking into the cold snow. He manages to drag himself onto his elbows, legs tangled with Baekhyun’s. His sword lies mere centimetres away and Minseok grasps for it, every inch of his body tensing in anticipation of Baekhyun’s next attack.

But it doesn’t come. 

Minseok frowns, leaning down more closely to inspect Baekhyun’s face. His eyes are shut, eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, and Minseok reaches out hesitantly to touch him. His fingers skate across Baekhyun’s pink mouth, the soft curve of his jaw, and when Baekhyun doesn’t stir beneath him Minseok turns his head to the side, checks his neck for a pulse. 

He feels one immediately, Baekhyun’s heart hammering beneath his fingertips, and Minseok hates himself for the sigh of relief he breathes. 

Minseok steadies himself for a moment, tries to control the pounding in his head, then eventually manages to push himself first to his knees and then up onto his feet. His vision swims for a moment and Minseok has to rest his weight upon his sword when he picks it up, the sharp tip sinking into the snow.

He’s just swinging the sword up to strap it back into place on his hip when Minseok hears a groan behind him. He turns, more quickly than he should if the way his vision briefly turns black is anything to go by, and sees Jongdae holding himself up on shaky elbows.

“Is he dead?” Jongdae asks, voice hoarse. He struggles to his feet and Minseok reaches a hand out to grasp his shoulder when he sways. 

“No, not dead.” Minseok wipes blood from his nose, red smearing warm and dirty over the back of his palm. “Merely unconscious. Bind his hands and feet, Jongdae. We will bear him back to the palace, where he shall remain locked up for the rest of his miserable days.” 

Jongdae procures several lengths of Clematis from one of his saddle bags and together he and an extremely groggy Song Qian bind Baekhyun’s limbs. He doesn’t stir as they roll his body up into a sitting position, nor does he budge when Song Qian lifts him and throws his body over the back of her own grasshopper. The creature rubs his hind legs together in distaste. 

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” Jongdae asks, once Baekhyun is secured. “Your nose-“

“As alright as could be expected, Jongdae,” Minseok says quietly, surveying the damage surrounding them. Baekhyun’s tent stands in ruins, great swathes of fabric torn from their supporting poles and fluttering weakly in the wind. A small fire still burns by his feet and Minseok moves to kick snow over it, takes some measure of satisfaction in the way it hisses as it dies out. “Come,” he says eventually, “we would do well not to linger here.” 

Minseok strides to the centre of the glade, Jongdae in tow behind him, and all of his troops immediately turn to face their king. “Half of you are to remain out here. I want all of the hostages found and returned to the kingdom as promptly as possible. While Baekhyun remains unconscious his curse should have faded, but they are likely still dazed and confused. Give them whatever answers they seek, then bring them all to see a healer. Their families will be informed in due course.” Half of the troops salute Minseok, then immediately turn their grasshoppers off and disappear out into the frozen grasses. 

“The rest of you, return to the kingdom with me,” Minseok says. He can feel more blood trickling down from his nose, can taste it running down over his lips. “I am sure you will all agree, the sooner Baekhyun is incarcerated the better. Lead on, Captain.”

Jongdae and his troops all salute. As Jongdae moves to pass Minseok he pauses, dipping his head politely before turning to gaze up at Minseok. “Forgive me, Your Highness, if I speak out of turn.” Minseok says nothing so Jongdae presses on. “You have done well by your people in all matters, Your Highness. Baekhyun’s return cannot have been easy for you, such friend of yours as he once was. Yet I know I speak for all of us when I say that we continue to live happily under your rule.”

Minseok clasps a hand on the back of Jongdae’s neck. He squeezes it softly, leaves it linger there for just a moment, and then he pats Jongdae on the shoulder and eases him away. “Lead on, Captain,” he repeats, voice tight, and he hopes that the bloody smile he is just about able to muster up as Jongdae bows again then goes to climb into his own saddle shows even a shred of his gratitude. 

 

 

In the highest tower of the palace Baekhyun is locked, arms kept bound behind his back and his feet shackled firmly to the floor. 

Minseok refrains from waiting around until he awakes. Leaving Baekhyun under guard of four wardens, Minseok instead takes his leave back to his own quarters. He ignores the glances of the palace staff as he strides by, disregards the whispers, and heads with single-mindedness to privacy. 

Once there, he does not even get the chance to wipe the blood and grime from his face before his legs give way beneath him and the king falls to his knees. Tears sting at his eyes and Minseok wipes them away furiously, smearing more filth across his face as he scrubs them away. 

Eventually Minseok struggles to his feet. He stumbles across to his window, pushes the fir boughs aside, and simply leans out into the air, breathing in great gulps of it until he feels the pounding in his head begin to lessen. It could be minutes or hours later, Minseok does not keep track, before he moves to push himself away. He should clean the filth from his body. He should rest. There are a great many things Minseok knows he should do, but as his exhausted brain scrambles to consider each and every job, something catches his eye and the king pauses.

There, upon the windowsill, its dainty white petals peeking up out of the snow, was a Snowdrop. Minseok reached out to cup the bell shaped head, fingers shaking as they trailed down the delicate little stem and despite himself, despite everything, despite the bone deep grief and weariness that threatened to consume him whole, Minseok felt a smile blossom across his face.  
 It was over. It was finally over.

Spring was here at last. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minseok groaned as he settled into his armchair. He placed his walking stick to one side and simply took a moment to relax, entire body aching after what had proven to be an incredibly long day. The welcoming of autumn celebrations were always a busy time of in the calendar of the Wildflower Kingdom and much as Minseok enjoyed them every year, looked forward to the golden coating of leaves along the ground and the children bedecked in crowns of purple Crocus and Dahlia, age was beginning to catch up with him and Minseok found with each passing summer that he did not have the same energy to enjoy the festivities as he once did. 

A bottle of nectar-wine and a stack of correspondences lie on the writing table before him and Minseok leans forward for the wine first. This would probably be the last bottle produced before the bees readied themselves for hibernation and Minseok fully intended to savour the sweet drink in the full manner it deserved. 

Once he had satisfied himself with a modest amount, poured into the hollowed out shell of an acorn, Minseok began to sift through the letters. Gnarled old fingers flicked through the envelopes slowly and Minseok was just reaching for his cup to take another sip of wine when he noticed a particular letter, a single blue petal bearing the stamp of the palace prison. 

Thirty-seven years it had been since Baekhyun’s imprisonment, yet still a day did not go by that Minseok did not feel the pain of that second dreadful betrayal deep within his heart. Long his subsequent reign had been, and peaceful, yet Minseok had been changed forevermore and his spirit had never quite recovered from the loss. 

The king refrained from attending the prison personally whenever he could and it had been many long years since he had seen Baekhyun’s face or heard his voice in anything but his dreams. 

As such, it was with a great deal of dread that he turned the petal over.

After everything, after all those years of pain and torment, after all the evil that Baekhyun’s darkness had caused, Minseok’s heart was still soft enough, was still twined with Baekhyun’s closely enough, that upon the final freedom granted by his death, Minseok was unable to stop the tears that spilt down his face. 

 

 

**Notes on flowers:**  
[Snapdragon:](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mS5v1ZYXg4I/U09f4xU5KkI/AAAAAAAAE_w/HWJuLBmguvU/s1600/rocket-snapdragon.jpg) symbolic of graciousness and strength, however they also have negative connotations of deception  
[Bluebell:](http://s0.geograph.org.uk/photos/77/23/772332_6cd59452.jpg) humility, gratitude and everlasting love. bluebells are closely associated with fairies and are sometimes referred to alternatively as 'fairy thimbles.' fairies are believed to cast spells on those who pick or damage bluebells.  
[Sheep's Bit:](http://www.gardenershq.com/flowerimage/Jasione-laevis.jpg) an exceptionally hardy species of wild flower that is particularly attractive to bees and other pollinators   
[Gladiolus:](http://miragro.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/lightbox/fotoinstory/gladiolusy_sorta.jpg) symbolic of faithfulness, honour and strength of character. the flower itself signifies remembrance  
[Fir:](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/55/Abies_Orjen_foliage.jpg) the fir is a symbol of endurance and determination. the boughs in particular represent hope and promise in the midst of long winters.   
[Clematis (Old Man's Beard):](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a5/Clematis_vitalba_bgiu.jpg) though the scientific name stems from the latin 'vita' or life, this flower was believed to be in league with the Devil, and did his work by trailing onto other plants and choking them  
[Snowdrop:](http://openwalls.com/image/48540/snowdrops_in_snow_1536x1024.jpg) one of the first flowers to bloom after winter, snowdrops are celebrated in some cultures as a sign of spring. they symbolise hope  
[Crocus:](http://www.crocus.co.uk/images/products2/PL/10/00/00/03/PL1000000363_card_lg.jpg) flowering in autumn, the crocus symbolises cheerfulness  
[Dahlia:](http://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large/purple-haze-dahlia-carol-senske.jpg) another autumn flower, dahlias represent inner strength and enduring grace  



End file.
